This one's for Vinz Klorthos.

Last weekend, I went to the bar to pick up a friend who had one too many to drink. I really don't mind, as i'd rather be sure they get home safe than they risk it. But that's beside the point.

At this bar, there was a band setting up. Being a sometimes musician, I gave their gear a once over: decent drums, guitar, bass, a line six amp (Ewww..). Overall, not bad. There was a guy on stage with his back towards the crowd, but he had something strapped to him. I assumed it was another guitarist. Until he turned around. It was a keytar.

Now, there's a certain stigma associated with the keytar. It's often viewed as a slightly cheesy throwback to the eighties, and with good reason i suppose. However, the fault lay not in the instrument, but the wielder.

There are generally two types of people who use keytars. What it comes down to is how the person approaches the keytar.

One of them fully embrace and propagate that stigma. To them, they keytar is a cute, ironic little gimmick. These people are more often than not scene kids who arent' even old enough to remember -or to have even been alive during- the keytar's heyday. These people are less than men. They are unable to please their lovers, so they often stealth their way into petting zoos with a jar of Vaseline and a handful of peanut butter.

The other type of keytarist views the stigma as somethign to be overcome, something to be conquered. They realize the deck is stacked against them, and yet they bravely take the stage, prepared to give it their all. To them, they keytar is like a crysknife: once it is drawn, blood must be shed. These men, upon the shedding of their mortal coil, will be carried to Valhalla by the Valkyrie to the soothing sounds of Herbie Handcock and Jan Hammer.